"There," repeated Dr. Fell. He seized the rector's arm. "You see him? Who is he?"
The rector turned a puzzled face. He said: "You must be mad! I never saw him before. What on earth-?"
"Ah," said Dr. Fell. His voice suddenly grew louder. It seemed to boom and echo along the platform. "You don't recognize him. But you should, Mr. Saunders; you should.
He's your uncle."
During an enormous silence one of the motionless men came up behind and put his hand on the rector's shoulder.
He said: "Thomas Saunders, I arrest you for the murder of Martin Starberth. I have to warn you that anything you say may be taken down and used in evidence against you."
He had taken his other hand out of his pocket, and it held a revolver. Rampole, even while his wits were whirling, saw that the motionless men were closing in, silently, from all corners of the platform.
Chapter 17
The rector did not move, nor did his expression change. He continued to swab at his forehead with the handkerchief, that old trick of his; large and black-clad and comfortable, with his gold watch-chain swinging. But his blue eyes seemed to have shrunk. Not narrowed, but shrunk, as though they had really grown smaller. He was mustering up unction, ease, fluency, Rampole felt, as a man takes a deep inhalation before a swim underwater.
He said:
"This is absurd. I hope you realise that. But," a polite gesture, with the handkerchief, "we seem to be — ah — attracting some attention. I suppose you gentlemen are all detectives; even if you are so mad as to arrest me, you hardly needed so large a force…. There's a crowd gathering!" he added, in a lower and angrier tone. "If you must keep your hand on my shoulder, let's go back to Sir Benjamin's car."
The man who had arrested him, a taciturn-looking person with heavy lines in his face, looked at Dr. Fell.
"This is the man, sir?" he asked.
"It's all right, Inspector," answered the doctor. "That's the man. You may as well do as he suggests.- Sir Benjamin, you see that man on the platform. You recognize him?"
"Good Lord, yes!" exclaimed the chief constable. "It's Bob Saunders, right enough. He's older than when I knew him, but I should recognize him anywhere…. But I say, Fell!" He was sputtering like a boiling kettle. "You can't possibly mean — the rector — Saunders-!"
"His name isn't Saunders," said the doctor, composedly. "And I'm fairly sure he isn't a clergyman. Anyhow, you recognize the uncle. I was afraid you would blurt out something before I could enquire. There was always a chance, that the bogus Saunders would resemble the real rector.
“Inspector Jennings, I suggest you take your prisoner over to that grey automobile on the other side of the road. Sir Benjamin, you might meet your old friend before the rest of us do. Tell him as much or as little as you like, and then join us."
Saunders took off his hat and fanned himself with it.
"Then you are behind this, Doctor?" he enquired, almost genially. "I — er — it surprises me. It even shocks me. I do not like you, Doctor Fell. Gentlemen, come along. You needn't keep hold of my arm, Inspector. I assure you I have no intention of running away."
In the darkening light, the little party moved across to the Daimler. Inspector Jennings turned his neck as though on a slow pivot.
"I thought I should bring a few of the men along with me, sir," he said to Dr. Fell. "You said he was a killer."
The ugly word, unemotionally spoken, caused a hush which was broken only by the plodding of large feet. Rampole, walking behind the rest of them with Dorothy, stared at the large back of the rector moving in confident strides. The bald spot on Saunders' head shone out of the fluff of yellowish hair. He heard Saunders laugh….
They put the prisoner in the tonneau of the car. Spreading himself comfortably, the rector drew a deep breath. The word "killer" was still sounding faintly in their ears. Saunders seemed to know it. His eyes moved slowly over them, and he was meticulously folding and unfolding his handkerchief. It was as though he were putting on pieces of armour.
"Now, then, gentlemen," he remarked, "pray let's make this appear to be a pleasant little chat in the rear of a motor-car…. What, precisely, is the charge against me?"
"By God!" said Dr. Fell, striking the side of the car admiringly, "it's damned good, Saunders! — You heard the Inspector. Officially you are charged only with the murder of Martin Starberth. Eh?"
"Quite," agreed the rector, nodding slowly. "I am glad I have such a group of witnesses about me Before I say anything, Inspector, this is your last chance. Are you sure you want to proceed with this arrest?"
"Those are my instructions, sir."
Again the other nodded pleasantly. "I rather think you'll regret it, then. Because three witnesses-excuse, four witnesses — will testify that it would have been absolutely impossible for me to have killed my young friend Martin. Or, indeed, anybody else."
He smiled.
"May I ask a question now? Dr. Fell, you seem to have caused this somewhat-pardon me-amazing procedure. On the night my young friend — ah — died, I was at your house, by your side, was I not? At what time did I arrive?" Dr. Fell, still resembling a fat bandit, was leaning against the side of the car. He seemed to be enjoying himself.
"First move," he said. "You're opening with a pawn instead of a knight. Stand by, Inspector; I like this.You arrived in the vicinity of ten-thirty. More or less. I'll give you ten-thirty."
"Let me remind you"-the rector's voice had grown a trifle harsher; but he changed it in an instant, smoothly. "Ah, no matter. Miss Starberth, will you tell these gentlemen again what time your brother left the Hall?"
"There was a mix-up about clocks, you know," Dr. Fell put in. "The clock in the hall was ten minutes fast…."
"Quite so," said Saunders. "Well, at whatever time he left the Hall, I must have been at Dr. Fell's house? You know this to be a fact?"
Dorothy, who had been staring at him queerly, nodded.
"Why… yes. Yes, naturally."
"And you, Mr. Rampole. You know that I was at the doctor's, and that I never left. You saw Martin coming up to the prison with his light while I was there; you saw his lamp in the Governor's Room while I was there? In short, I could not conceivably have killed him?"
Rampole had to say, "Yes." There was no denying it. During all that time, Saunders had been directly under his eyes; under Dr. Fell's eyes also. He did not like Saunders' look. There was too much of a sort of desperate hypnosis behind the smile of the big, pink, steaming face. All the same…
"You, too, must grant all this, doctor?" the rector asked. "I do admit it."
"And I employed no mechanical device, such as has several times been suggested in this investigation? There was no death-trap by which I could have killed Martin Starberth while I was not there?"
"There was not," the doctor replied. His blinking eyes had become steady. "You were with us the whole time you say you were. In the brief moments when you were separated from Mr. Rampole while you two ran up towards the prison, you did nothing whatever — Martin Starberth was already dead. Your conduct was clear. And yet you killed Martin Starberth with your own hand, and flung his body into the Hag's Nook."
Unfolding his handkerchief again, the rector wiped his forehead. His eyes seemed to watch for a trap. Anger was growing now….
"You'd better turn me loose, Inspector," he said, suddenly. "Don't you think we've had enough foolery? This man is either trying to play a joke, or…"
"Here comes Sir Benjamin with the man you say is your uncle," remarked Dr. Fell. "I think we had all better go back to my house. And then I'll show you how he did it. In the meantime-Inspector!"